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POEMS 



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POEMS 

BY 

LAURA COSTER STRONG 



3Fn fll^emoriam 



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Kiviiffas Sh KapT), irporl tv fivO-fiffaro Qvfiiv • 

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Qvtirif, vfitts S' ((Trhv ay^po) r' aBavdrct) re i 
iZ. xvu, 441. 



CAMBRIDGE 

Prtbatelp ptinteti at Ct)e Etlierfiitlie press 
1908 



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COPYRIGHT I90S BY GEORGE TEMPLETON STRONG 



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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



SIXTY COPIES PRINTED 
NO....;.. '.J ' 






TO 
ALL THE GIRLS 

OF 
MY GIRLHOOD 



TO HER FRIENDS: 

These verses are printed for you, as a Memorial of her 
whom we have lost. They are transcribed exactly from a 
book of them, copied and arranged by her within a year, 
or thereabouts, before her death, and, I think, undoubt- 
edly intended by her for private publication. Some are, to 
me, impressively pathetic; one such piece as *A Warm 
Day in Autumn' would justify the book. Blank pages 
scattered in the MS. show that new poems were in con- 
templation which would have made less abrupt the se- 
quence of grave and gay. I have not felt at liberty to 
make any alterations, though the author, had she lived, 
would perhaps, here and there, have done so. The prose 
piece called * Serenity ' was placed by her in her book of her 
poetry, and was a letter to the New York Tribune, Jan. 
21,1 905. I have included it, as it gives partly, perhaps, the 
secret of the wonderful attraction she had for her friends. 
If I may trust my own judgment, very fine lines occur in 
the first and last poems in the collection, and elsewhere; 
the last was found in her Prayer Book at Psalm 90, one 
of the Psalms used in the Office for Burial. No comment 
is necessary upon these verses; all of them, the lighter as 
well as the graver, will be interesting to you. 

J. R. S. 
vii 



CONTENTS 

POEMS 

A Love Song in Florida ..... 3 

My Ship 5 

White Wings, a Song ..... 8 

Cruising ........ 10 

The White Heron . . . . . .12 

The Pelican in the Wilderness ... 14 

Boreas . . . . . . . .16 

April 20 

A Warm Day in Autumn . . . .22 

Lullaby ........ 24 

I, TOO . . 26 

John, a Sonnet 27 

ix 



CONTENTS 

Whither . 28 

June 30 

The Other Side . . . . . • 3'^ 

Ode to the Toothache .... 34 

Nonsense Verses; Limericks . . . -36 

Christmas-Eve in the South • • • 39 

The Second Advent ...... 41 

Sharers ........ 42 

PROSE 

Serenity ........ 43 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



1882 . . . . . 

Francis, Laura, and Rutherfurd Stewart: 1869 

June, 1877 

Organ; the Holy Innocents Church, Harlem 

Cambridge, Mass., circa 1892 

Marblehead ....... 

Marblehead, Miss Rice and L. C. S. : 1902 

Stars of Bethlehem: June 4, 1904 

Faunside : June 12, 1904 . . . „ 

Faunside : June 12, 1904 .... 

Monhegan : July 17, 1904. 

Aboard the 'Alice'; Fog off Schoodic Point 
8, 1904 ....... 

The Cottage; Cocoanut Grove: Feb., 1905. 

The 'Dixie' at Anchor in Broad Creek, Fla.: 
March 18, 1905 ....... 

Summer of 1905 ....... 

At the Spring, Pittstown, N. J.: July 14, 1905 . 

The Christmas Tree from the Catskills at Cocoa- 
nut Grove: Dec. 25, 1905 ..... 

Jan. 4, 1906 ........ 



Frontispiece 



4 

. 6 

1884 8 



Aug. 



10 

12 

14 • 

lb- 

20, 

22 -^ 

24 

26/ 
28 

30 
32 ' 
34" 

38' 

40, 



POEMS 



A LOVE SONG IN FLORIDA 

To J. R. S., Feb. 14, 1905 

The birds salute the break of day 
With sweetest song e'er sung ; 

They swell their little throats with joy, 
And carol, " Love is young." 

The wavelets in the morning sun 

Fling up a film of spray, 
And, dancing on the pebbly beach. 

They chatter, " Love is gay." 

The noonday zephyr passes through 

Each twig and leafy crest ; 
It nestles in the drowsy pines 

And murmurs, " Love is rest." 

The tiny voices of the woods. 
As wane the light and heat. 

And sunset glow is over all. 

Are crooning, " Love is sweet." 
3 



A LOVE SONG IN FLORIDA 

The evening star, the Star of Love, 
Gilds palm and tasseled pine ; 

She lights with joy the lover's heart 
And whispers, " Love is thine." 




FRANCIS, LAURA, AND RUIHERFUKD i.1 EWART : 1869 



MY SHIP 

March 17, 1903. A showery day at Crab Beich 
(Her boat appearing over-arched by a rainbow) 

On the joyful day that my ship comes in, 

I shall be, oh, so happy and good; 
All the girls shall have presents of strings of pearls, 

And no one shall want for food ; 
In silks and velvets and ermine clad, 

I shall walk about like a real queen ; 
But why is my trade so long delayed, 

And why is my ship not seen ? 

I gaze through my magical glass, and — behold! 

In a distant clime my ship speeds on. 
In a summer breeze, o'er the perfumed seas. 

In the glow of the setting sun. 
Her sails are embroidered damask so fine. 

With jewels glitter and glisten her spars. 
And below in the hold are the silver and gold 

And copper in solid bars. 

5 



MY SHIP 

She leaves in her wake a line of foam. 

She is manned by a gallant crew ; 
At the head of her mast my ensign flies fast, 

Sunflower in field of blue ; 
And strains of sweet music are wafted afar. 

Oh, truly my fortune seems wondrous fair ; 
I turn me aside in contentment and pride 

And the vision fades into air. 

And now I hear voices with sad warning fraught 

Of the treacherous deep and its mystery ; 
They tell me strange tales of furious gales 

That brood on that summer sea. 
They tell me of currents and quicksands and reefs, 

Of an ocean the width of the whole world's span. 
Of boats tempest-tost that were foundered and lost 

And nevermore seen by man. 

Then again I look into my magical glass, 

(Oh, gift beyond price of the fairy named Hope), 

I see by her sails my ship 's weathered some gales, 
But sound is each spar and each rope. 

6 



June, iSyj 



MY SHIP 



She sails through an arch by a rainbow made 
Towards me both smoothly and fast ; 

My sunflower gay proudly waves on the way 
And my ship will come in at last. 



WHITE WINGS 

A Song 

Toward the westering sun we merrily sail 
As a bird in its flight o'er the sapphire sea. 

The wind whistles and sings as we spread our white 
wings, 
And the boat leaps ahead like a captive made free. 

In the gray of the twilight we silently sail, 
The stars peep out shyly at drop of the sun, 

And to windward the roar of the surf on the shore 
Booms rhythmic, triumphant, an evening gun. 

Where sea and sky meet comes the moon as we sail. 
Aphrodite so fair from the ocean emerging ; 

We skim in our flight her pathway of light 

Where silver-tipped wavelets are splashing and 
surging. 

But suddenly, stealthily, sweeps in the sea-mist, 
Aromatic with odors blent from the salt wave ; 

8 



WHITE WINGS 

Through a mystical veil we awesomely sail 
Over shadowy haunt and deep-hidden cave. 

Then homeward to harbor we drowsily sail, 

Where dusky dreams hover awaiting the dawn, 

The anchor is cast and all is made fast. 

Now fold the white wings till the shadows are 
gone. 



9 



CRUISING 

I sit upon the vessel's prow 

As o'er the wave she lightly speeds, 

Like great white wings her sails she spreads 
And seems to rival Neptune's steeds. 

She cleaves the water with her bow. 
Caressingly it foams and surges, 

And upward flings a wreath of spray. 
Which glistens ere with wave it merges. 

The white gulls circling far above 
Are scarcely freer than are we. 

With all the world from which to choose 
To penetrate its mystery. 

O'er trackless fields of azure depths. 
Explorers bold in sooth we are ; 

No printed footstep here is found. 
Reminder of the strife afar, 

lO 




CAMBRIDGE, MASS., CIRCA 1892 



CRUISING 

But stretches of unbroken blue. 
Wave meeting sky in tender haze, 

While, near us, rainbow-tinted drops 
Sparkle and dance. Oh, halcyon days ! 



n 



THE WHITE HERON 

Feb. 9, 1904 

In yonder far-sequestered pool 
The wild white heron stands, 

With stately mien and regal air, 
King of these watery lands. 

The glassy pond reflects his form, 
The sun on mangrove gleams, 

A statue in a leafy niche, 
He glistens in its beams. 

In murmur of the rustling leaves. 
Secure from rifle's blast. 

He stands in calm serenity. 
The Spirit of the Past. 

With dainty steps he paces now. 
His eyes the intruder scan. 

And to their welcome add a plea 
For mercy unto Man. 
12 



THE WHITE HERON 

Anon he spreads his graceful wings. 
His form outlined anew; 

He floats, a painted bird, in air. 
In empyrean blue. 

But no — by him a pictured bird 

Is but a whim, a toy ; 
It is cold stone or canvas dead. 

But he is life and joy. 



13 



THE PELICAN IN THE WILDERNESS 

Feb. 9, 1904. Bear's Cut (the Horseshoe Beach) 

From yonder wild and lonesome wood. 

Where stands a gnarled tree. 
The Pelican now issues forth 

In curiositee. 
He views me with distrustful eye 

As if to say, " Just see. 
There is another crazy loon 

A-writing about me. 
From David's to the present time 

They all have let me be. 
Because a face and name like mine 

Don't go in poetree. 
For years unnumbered, countless, aye. 

For many a centuree, 
I 've spent my time in living up 

To that old psalmistree. 
It 's tiresome to haunt the wilds 

With such persistencee ; 
14 



THE PELICAN IN THE WILDERNESS 

But David there has writ me down 

And so I am not free. 
But, really now, my style pronounced 

Should my protection be ; 
When poets want some novel point. 

They needn't fix on me." 
Then, weary of the theme, he sought 

The wood, and moodilee 
The Pel. sat in the wilderness 

And sulks upon a tree. 



15 



BOREAS 

With roar of joy and whistle shrill, 
Old Boreas comes down the hill. 

He stays nor stops for any one ; 
He's evidently out for fun. 

The little leaves, with laugh and sweep. 
He drives ahead like frightened sheep, 

And gives yon cowherd, lean and lank, 
A sudden but decided spank. 

I remonstrate: "Oh, Boreas, 
What means this play uproarious?" 

In answer to my mild surprise. 
He flings the dust into my eyes. 

And as I hold on to my clothes. 
He sharply tweaks my upturned nose, 
i6 




STARS OF BHTHLliHEM : JUNE 4, 1904 



BOREAS 

Then rustles off, just as he came. 
As if in search of larger game. 

The clothes on line, with fluttering tapes, 
He twists into the queerest shapes; 

John's trousers white, so lank and flat. 
Look suddenly puffed out with fat. 

And dance a can-can on the breeze. 
In rhythm with the swaying trees. 

My hose, that clothe a shapely calf. 
Look fit to cover a giraffe ; 

My best white skirt with flounce of lace 
He deftly wrenches from its place, 

And tosses it adown the glen. 
For me to find as best I can. 

Then whistles in hilarious mood. 
In manner too extremely rude. 
17 



BOREAS 

Now on the house he plays a trick, 
And gives it a resounding kick ; 

It starts and shivers in the blast; 
The windows rattle loud and fast ; 

With arms around the chimney's base, 
He almost shifts it from its place. 

Then struts about in boisterous glee, 
As though to say, "Just look at me ! " 

Long round the house he prowls in vain, 
Then finds that old cracked window-pane ; 

Triumphantly he makes a dash 
And blows the glass in with a crash ; 

With bound he enters, bangs the door. 
And strews my writings on the floor, 

Then whisks about, in furtive chase, 
The live sparks in the fire-place. 
i8 



BOREAS 

I cry aloud, with anger rife : 
"Oh, Boreas, I will tell your wife.'* 

A sudden lull makes answer pat, 
And seems to say, "Oh, no, not that." 

I answer, in a softened mood : 
"Go home at once then and be good, 

For it is very plain to see. 

Old Boreas, you are on a spree ! " 



19 



APRIL 

For J. R. S., April i, 1905 

I waken from a happy dream, 

The room ablaze with morning light, 
Across my eyes a dancing gleam 

Has put the god of sleep to flight. 

Beside me sounds a tinkling laugh, 
With dainty footsteps near my bed. 

And in the sunbeam's shining path 
An elfin form appears instead. 

A tall white cap with willow bands 
Surmounts his saucv face of brown. 

He opens wide his little hands, 

And flings a cloud of thistle-down. 

His tiny form is clothed in green. 
With crocus belt about his waist, 

And mossy sandals now are seen 
To trip around my room in haste. 

20 



APRIL 

He peers and pries, no fear he shows, 
When suddenly his eyes meet mine ; 

He puts his thumb upon his nose; 

" For shame, oh, what a naughty sign ! " 

Of ill-bred stares he takes his fill. 

Then squints one eye with look of scorn. 

And, perching on the window-sill, 
He cuts a caper and is gone. 

And yet his presence bids me sing. 
For although not brought up by rule. 

He is the promise of the Spring, 
For he's the merry April Fool. 



21 



A WARM DAY IN AUTUMN 

Through bare and leafless trees the breezes blow. 
The sun shines warm and bright on moor and fell. 

The slowly-dying summer, loth to go, 
A moment lingers for one last farewell. 

The distant hills, enwrapped in purple haze. 
Stand silent, mute, like sentinels on guard ; 

The brook no longer brawls in pebbly ways. 
But noiselessly flows on past grim rocks hard. 

The joyous birds o'er land and sea have sped. 

Seeking deathless summer in some far-off clime; 

The golden-rod has bowed its stately head 
In resignation to the law of time. 

Only the sun defies that stern command 

And strives with warmth to stay the fleeting 
breath ; 

All tenderly its rays enfold the land. 

Gilding with light the placid guise of death. 

22 




FAUNSIDE: JUNE 12, 1904 



A WARM DAY IN AUTUMN 

For Nature rests ere yet again she bloom, 
As he of old, wrapped in the linen cloth. 

Lay calmly sleeping in the darkened tomb. 

Awaiting but the Master's word, " Come forth." 

In murmurs soft and tuneful, zephyrs blow, 

The wood a deep-drawn, rhythmic breathing 
keeps ; 

Tread gently on the rustling leaves, speak low; 
Break not the spell, the summer only sleeps. 



23 



LULLABY 

Sleep, weary world, 
Welcome the night. 
Bid labor flee 
With day's harsh light; 
Far-away worlds 
Gleaming watch keep; 
Silence enwraps, 
All things sleep. 

Sleep, little flower. 
Fold each small leaf. 
Darkness protects 
From sudden grief; 
Heaven's soft dews 
Cool earth's parched breast. 
Fragrantly bathe ; 
All things rest. 

Sleep, tired heart. 
Lay down thy cross, 

24 



LULLABY 

Let go of care, 
Sorrow and loss; 
Wand'ring night-winds 
Tuneful watch keep ; 
Slow sway the trees, 
All things sleep. 



25 



I, TOO 

June 13, 1905 ; for J. R. S. to read on the • Cretic ' 

(Written in reference to a European trip, the author not going) 

Again I near historic shores, 

The scenes are fraught with storied fate; 
Where dawn now creeps o'er yonder deeps 

A Caesar sailed in regal state ; 
The rowers, panting, bent to their oars. 

On crested waves the galley sped. 
And with hawk-eye keen and classic mien 

The Hero reared his world-crowned head. 

I, too, a conqueror, sailed these seas 

Long ago on a wondrous cruise ; 
Breasting the wave in triumph brave. 

The world was before me to choose. 
The wind-swept rigging sang paeans of joy. 

The salt spray to greet me was flung. 
Flying pennons gay on sparkling way, 

I laughed — for life and love were young. 

26 



JOHN 

A Sonnet 

Dec. 1 6, 1905 

A manly form beside me walks. 
But no — not walks — he eke must soar; 
With old-world bards he lives and talks, 
And stores his mind with worth-while lore. 
And yet, in sooth, no dreamer he. 
But Bayard without sign of fear ; 
He yearns to make the captive free 
And guards the weak with sword and spear. 
And when to battle all must go. 
He charges foremost on the sward ; 
He stands a victor o'er his foe. 
Then, generous, gives him back his sword. 
Let all who read, delighted, learn 
The subject of these lines is John. 



27 



WHITHER? 

Dec. 1 6, 1905 

"Whither, wind, whither and whence?" I said. 
As the blast rushed on its way, 
" The forest waves its branches sere, 
The pine-trees murmur, * Linger here,' " 

But the tempest answered, " Nay — 
From an ether pure as an angel's face. 
The world seems petty and small and base. 
And I haste to the quiet of Infinite Space." 

"Whither, stream, whither and whence?" I asked. 
As I marked its ceaseless flow, 
** Oh, turbulent, foaming, excited brook, 
A moment pause in some sheltered nook," 

But the stream replied, " Not so — 

From caverns too deep for human quest, 
I haste through these confines of dull unrest 
In search of the Ocean's mighty breast." 



28 



WHITHER ? 

" Whither, soul, whither and whence ? " I mused. 
As I saw the phantom pass, 
" What means this vista of troubled years ? 
Joy was thy birthright, not sighs and tears," 

But the soul replied, " Alas — 

Awakened from sleep with no guiding beams, 
Beset by the shadows with which life teems, 
I hasten on to the Land of Dreams." 



29 



JUNE 

Faunside, June 2, 1903 

Deep in the wood, secure from glare and noise. 
How sweet, serene, and grateful Nature seems, 
A couch of softest velvet moss she makes. 
Inviting one to reverie and dreams. 

The boughs o'erhead wave gently to and fro. 
Each leafy twig a trembling, tiny fan. 
That, murmuring, in drowsy accents low. 
Stir old-world fancies of the days of Pan. 

Far as the eye can reach are bosky depths. 
Mysterious and dark tunnels of living green ; 
The changing flecks of sunshine, here and there, 
But serve to add enchantment to the scene. 

A robin on yon branch trills forth. 
With head upraised, a joyous, blithesome song ; 
So Siegfried listened to the magic bird 
And learned the secrets of the woodland tongue. 

30 




THE ' DIXIE ' AT ANCHOR IN BROAD CREEK, FLA, 
MARCH iS, 1905 



JUNE 

A dainty footstep rustles the dry leaves ; 
I peer behind gnarled trunks to see the faun ; 
But, strange, shy creature, hurried sounds, 
'Mid branch and bramble, tell me he has gone. 

Now sweeps a wind-gust down the mountain-side. 
The woods are full of echoing, vibrant tones. 
Strange shadows flit among the dusky ways 
And hide behind the moss-grown logs and stones. 

The insects chirp, the partridge drums. 
And shrill the song-bird carols forth his tune ; 
Oh, where is Fancy bred ! Whispers the wind, 
" Deep in the leafy wood, mayhap, in June." 



31 



THE OTHER SIDE 

To J. R. S. 

Faunside, June 5, 1904 

I journeyed on an unknown road, 

Begirt with mountains towering high, 
And one stood out with granite load, 
Its bastions seemed to pierce the sky. 
" Oh, could I climb to yonder height 

O'erlooking land and sea," I sighed, 
" The wonders of the world I 'd sight 
Spread out upon the other side." 

I climbed that steep and dizzy height ; 

The path was rough for tired feet. 
Buoyed up with thoughts of ancient might, 
I saw no stones, I felt no heat. 
" Who would not suffer toil untold 

To reach the goal," I panting cried, 
" And see the glories of the world 
Revealed upon the other side ! " 



32 



Summer of igo^ 



THE OTHER SIDE 

I reached the top and on my eyes 

No sight there burst of foreign seas. 
Or castles old of giant size ; 

My roof-tree glimmered through the trees ! 
*Twas my own hill on which I stood. 

Whose prospect promised strange and wide 
Because, in absent, wandering mood, 

I 'd viewed it from the other side. 

The fields well-known and traversed oft. 

How dear and sweet they seemed and fair. 
Each leafy twig waved welcomes soft. 

And one Beloved Form was there, 
A shelter sure in time of need ! 

" I have not climbed in vain," I cried, 
" The glories of the world indeed 

Lie here, upon the other side." 



33 



ODE TO THE TOOTHACHE 

After a night of it at Faunside 

June 7, 1904 

Accursed tooth, thou type of sin. 

Enjoying ruin wrought, 

Emblem of true depravity 

And direful battles fought ! 

How now ? Out on thee ! Fie, for shame ! 

Thou hear'st my plaint to mock it ! 

Would'st thou then rend my very jaw 

From out its natural socket ? 

O gentle tooth, I spoke in haste. 

Mine ancient, trusty friend ; 

Thou grind'st my meat day after day 

With no sinister end. 

How now? Thou wilt not let me be ? 

Then I'll say naughty wordy; 

Demnition ! Darn it ! Devil ! Damn ! 

H ell-fire ! H urdy-gurdy ! 



34 




AT THE SPRING, PITTSTOWN, N. J.: JUI-^' 14, 1905 



ODE TO THE TOOTHACHE 

There ! do thy worst with spasm, twingCj 
And swollen gum, forsooth ; 
I rise superior to thee. 
Thrice-cussed, gol-darned tooth. 



35 



NONSENSE VERSES 
LIMERICKS 

upon the Purchase of the • Alice * 
Marblehead, August, 1901 

There was a young man at the * Neck,' 
And he wanted to own his own deck, 

For he said, " I 've a tub 

And that is the rub," 
And he scorned the fine * Grant ' of the * Neck.' 

There was a young man bold and free 
Said, " No custom-house laws are for me. 

If they want to enmesh 

I '11 be equally fresh, 
And I '11 gayly prance over the sea." 

There was a young man very bright 
And he wanted so much to do right 

That he told all his biz 

To the powers that is. 
And thereon his boat was locked tight. 

36 



NONSENSE VERSES 

There was a young man sailed the main, 
And he said, "Why are you in pain? 

It's no use to be scared 

For I never yet dared 
To play tricks when the sea raises Cain." 

Said a man, " If I had greater room, kin 
My boat be supplied with a boomkin? 

And a well-ordered mess 

That never grows less 
Of Kennedy crackers and poomkin?" 

Said a man as he got out abaft her, 
" My boat is the scene of much laughter. 
For I tie to the spot 
Where the storm strikes the yacht. 
And that is the pleasure we 're after." 



THREE LIMERICKS EXTEMPORIZED SEPT. 2, 1901, 

on first going aboard the * Alice * 

There was a young man who said, " Lo, 
I will sail all my boats in a row. 
37 



NONSENSE VERSES 

If you don't own a fleet. 
You must take a back seat, 
And I '11 be the boss of the show." 

Said a man with a face full of woe, 
" There 's a riddle I want much to know ; 
How is it that I 'm 
To sail five boats at a time ? 
And that is what *s troubling me so." 

Said a man, " If my boat had a jigger 
I could cut a most elegant figger ; 
I 'd sail forward and back 
Without making a tack, 
And I 'd feel about twenty times bigger." 



38 




THE CHRISTMAS TREE FROM THE CAT8KILLS AT COCOANUT 
GROVE : DEC. 25, 1905 



CHRISTMAS-EVE IN THE SOUTH 

'T is Christmas-eve, the moon shines bright, 
The palm-trees wave, the water gleams. 

The busy world is wrapped in sleep 
And sweet forgetfulness and dreams. 

On such a night — silent, serene, 

'Mid drowsing flocks with snow-white fleece. 
Some shepherds watched, with eager eyes, 

The coming of the Prince of Peace. 

Perhaps yon planet in the West 

Shone down upon that wondrous Child, 

The Home of peace and joy and rest. 
All mirrored in His face so mild. 

The three wise Kings from out the East, 
Traversing mountain, field, and ford. 

Perhaps were guided by that star 
To the cradle of their Lord. 



39 



CHRISTMAS-EVE IN THE SOUTH 

Oh star, make plain my unknown path, 
Lighten the darkness drear and dread, 

And lead me to the new-born Christ 
Asleep in His manger-bed. 



40 




JAN. 4, 1906 



THE SECOND ADVENT 

He comes in clouds of glory 

Through the blackness of the night. 
And the angels chaunt His Story 

In tones of awe and might. 
Before that trail the stars grow pale 

And lose their effulgent light. 



41 



SHARERS 

The sands are flowing silently 

But emptied soon will be the glass ; 

Prepare, my soul, reliantly 

To hear the call and onward pass. 

But not in fear ; Divinest Love 

Has shared with me His pierced side, 

The pains, the doubts my faith to prove, 
Have all by Him been dignified. 

And "tho' the flood may bear me far " 
And tho' the hour be long and late, 

I fear no power to make or mar, 
I know that I shall share His fate. 



42 



SERENITY 

New York Tribune, January 21, 1905 

In these days, when, it would appear, the striving for 
wealth, influence, and position has never been so great, the 
simple life, a term suggestive of rest and contentment, is 
indeed worth contemplating. It looms up on our horizon 
as a " far-ofi^, divine event" — but how attain it? How 
rid ourselves of the endless struggle, with its consequent 
exhaustion, involved by our complex mode of life ? 

It seems to me that the root of the matter lies not in 
the too great number and variety of our duties and inter- 
ests, but in our own physical defects. I n a word, the average 
woman is so nervous that one day of the longed-for simple 
life, devoid of the excitement which she unconsciously 
craves, would be the proverbial last straw that would an- 
nihilate her. We must therefore endeavor to change our 
mental attitude — the attitude that makes of writing a 
friendly note a mad scramble with a pen ; that makes of 
a short call a high-pitched flow of words with one eye on 
the clock ; that makes of an errand a dash for a car, with 
distraction written on every feature. 

This high state of tension, from which so many of us 
suflFer, is often erroneously characterized as energy, indus- 

43 



SERENITY 

try, ambition ; but it is, in reality, nothing but a weakened 
nervous system, and should be deplored. 

Let us cease the fretting, fuming, worrying, hurrying, 
breathless chase in which so many of us waste our days. 
There is time enough if we will but utiHze it, but to do so 
we must cultivate serenity, concentration, self-control, and 
cheerfulness. Then, with strengthened nerves and a more 
effectual interest in the questions of the day, we will real- 
ize that problems, once so intricate and complicated, have 
solved themselves ; that the simple life has already begun 
for us, and that, " like a star, unhasting, unresting," we are 
faithfully fulfilling our destiny. 

L. C. S. 

Cambridge, Mass. 



Finis 



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